


Shadow and Fade

by Tassos



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Promptfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-28
Updated: 2008-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-02 11:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassos/pseuds/Tassos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam gets Dean out of Hell but all is not well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow and Fade

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Supernatural Season 3. Written for khakigrrl.

The night was moist.  The air was thick and heavy on his skin and it buzzed with the noise of frogs and crickets so loud he could barely hear himself think.  What he liked best, though, was that the dark did nothing to dissipate the heat of the day, which wrapped around him like a blanket.

He was cold, always so cold now.

It was ironic really, considering he’d thought he’d never feel cold again for eternity.  But then Sam had come and got him, and Dean became familiar with a lot of shitty irony.  Like the fact that it was him chasing Sam down through the woods.  Now that was ironic.  

“Sammy,” he called softly.  The words drifted, lazy and muffled in the heat, Dean could almost see them winding through the trees.  Sometimes that happened now, him seeing things that weren't properly there.  He'd seen Rob What's-it's grief like a shadow dimming him.  The woman who committed suicide had been transparent.

He swept the flashlight back and forth to either side of the trail, looking for rocks and fallen logs with space to hide under.  “Come on, Sammy.  It's me.”  The woods were still even though Dean could feel them hum with life.  A thousand tiny sounds like pinpricks, together pulsing in one heartbeat.  Dean took a deep breath, heavy with earth and leaves, and felt his own pulse rise then settle into time.  Everywhere was shadowed, but it was summer in the South and the shadows were right where they were supposed to be.  Dean was right where he was supposed to be.

The feeling didn't last.  Dean was standing alone in the woods and he shivered.   He kept moving until his flashlight found a log on the slope ahead.  “Sammy,” Dean called, still soft.  “Come out.  Game's over.”

There wasn't a rustle but the light reflected, shimmered.

“I seee youu,” he sing-songed because it had worked before, and sure enough, there was a giggle.

Dean went towards it, sweeping the light back and forth, never letting it linger on the log as he made a show of searching the surrounding brush.  “Where could he be?” he said aloud, ignoring the second giggle as he turned his back on the log.

He still jumped, even though he was expecting the sudden clamp of hands on his shoulders.

“Dean!” Sam said too loudly for the night.  While Dean's heart tried to calm down, his brother took hold of his free arm in both hands, shaking it.  “Dean, Dean.  You didn't see me!  I hid from you so good!”  Sam smiled, wide and carefree.

“Yeah.”  Dean’s mouth felt like plastic when he grinned back.  “Yeah, you did.”

“You didn't see me.  You walked right past me!”

“You did a -” Dean swallowed  “-good job there, Sammy.”  He stilled his arm, brought his other hand with the flashlight to lightly touch the back of Sam’s hands.  His brother stilled for two seconds and then he was bouncing away, under the log.

“Look what I killed, Dean!”  He jumped back up, as silently as he’d snuck up on Dean earlier, all his grace belied by the excited shaking of the thing in his hand - a squirrel, its head ripped off and blood wetly soaking into its fur in rivulets.  Dean didn't normally feel sorry for rodents, but for this poor thing, crushed in Sam's giant hand he couldn’t help it.

“That's great, Sam.”  He reached for the squirrel, wanting it gone.  “Why don’t -”

“No.”  Sam jerked the squirrel out of reach, his voice dropping into the familiar, calm “no” that Dean remembered from countless fights as a teenager and an adult.  “Don’t.”  Sam said, meaning _don't fuck with me_.  

Dean watched him carefully as he slowly lowered his hand.  He couldn’t read Sam’s eyes in the dark, but he could feel the tension in his muscles, coiled and ready.  And then it was gone.

“So we have a hunt?” Sam asked as if it were like old times.  He grinned, “Is it squirrels?”  He shook the dead thing, laughing, then tossed it aside.

“We should get back to the motel,” said Dean, pointing with the flashlight back to the trail.  He waited for Sam to go in front of him and felt no less relaxed when Sam did as told.

“We should get coffee.  Or, hey, sundaes!”  Sam spun suddenly with a blinding grin and puppy wide eyes.  He clapped his hands together.  “Please, Dean, please?  I’ll be good.  I promise.”

“We’ll see,” Dean told him even though the thought of ice cream made him shiver.  Sam kept on talking, about chocolate fudge and finding an ice cream monster and maybe they should get started on the hunt right now because people were probably dying, wasn't that horrible?

“Yeah,” Dean agreed.  It was past midnight, still muggy and hot.  His teeth were chattering.

He followed his brother down the trail and tried not to see the patches of him that were fading away.


End file.
